Velvet Cataclysm: Princes of the Underground, Book 1

by BETH KERY

  “Maybe not in the same way you remember it,” she continued, her quiet voice shaking. “But it was the most realistic dream I’d ever had. And when I woke up, I wasn’t convinced at all that it had been a dream. Your scent was still on me. I was wet from you…wet with you.” She saw his cheek muscle twitch and his eyes glistened even more than they had a minute ago. “I had felt so full in those moments, so alive…so complete. And when I woke up in that field, I was alone. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that.”

  A spasm of emotion tightened his face. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for it, Christina. But I want you to know my mind was joined with yours. We were joined in the wolf dream. I had your consent.”

  “I never said you didn’t.”

  “Taking you while you slept was an unpardonable sin. I don’t think I used my ascendancy on you to get your consent, but I wanted you so much in that moment. I might have pushed—”

  Christina made a sound of disgust and moved out of the haven of his arms. She felt his gaze boring into her as she stared out the curtained window onto the new day. When she thought she’d gathered herself sufficiently, she turned around and met his stare.

  “I wasn’t accusing you of making love to me without my consent. Waking up in that park was the worst experience of my life because I was alone. I’d felt what it was like to be with you, only to wake up and know on some deep level the experience had been ripped away from me. That’s what I’m not sure I can forgive you for, Saint. It was damned selfish of you.”

  Christina had to admit that it felt wonderful in those rare moments when she saw Saint at a loss for words. He could do things that were beyond her ability to comprehend, he possessed super-human strength and speed, he could enslave with his will…love like a god.

  But he was such a child when it came to understanding the heart of a simple human woman.

  He stood there, his stark, handsome face still frozen in disbelief at her words. The need to go to him in that moment nearly overwhelmed her.

  Instead, she shook her head and headed for the door. She didn’t know who she felt more disgusted with at that moment—herself, for getting so much satisfaction out of seeing him floundering when it came to what was as obvious to her as the sun in the sky, or Saint himself for being such a frustrating puzzle. Weren’t men in general a conundrum?

  Leave it to her to have fallen for an alien who was even thicker than human males when it came to matters of the heart.

  She paused in the process of reaching for the door handle.

  “I guess you were wrong about that whole infertility thing,” she said archly over her shoulder.

  He stared at her, still looking steamrolled. He shrugged helplessly. “It’s never happened to the soulless before. I’m as confused by it as you are.”

  She shook her head and laughed mirthlessly.

  “I’m not confused by it, Saint. It all seems pretty cut and dry to me. I’m going to find Aidan,” she said before she turned and walked out of the room.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Christina sat beneath a maple tree next to Kavya, both of them watching as Fardusk solemnly instructed Aidan in the yard. The first time she’d seen Aidan shift into his wolf form, a scream had tickled her throat. She started to rise off the ground when Aidan gave a yelp of pain…a yelp that more resembled her human son than the young wolf he’d nearly morphed into. Kavya put his hand on her, stilling her.

  “It pains him because he fights the transformation. He will learn not to. Pain is a good teacher,” Kavya murmured.

  “Mothers cannot idly sit by and watch their children while they hurt,” Christina snarled.

  “Indeed. But pain is a good teacher for a mother as well as her child.” He nodded toward Aidan. Christina watched, mouth hanging open in amazement, as the young wolf frolicked, nipped, and played with the larger, more sedate wolf by his side.

  It hadn’t necessarily been pleasant sitting there while Aidan familiarized himself with his wolf-nature, but Christina had to admit that doing so alleviated many of the fears she’d acquired during the night. And when the young, sleek brown wolf with the tawny chest and bluish-green eyes trotted toward her later that morning and rested its head on her shoulder, Christina had wrapped her arms around him.

  Her heart slowed and she sighed as a profound sense of acceptance went through her. She’d known Aidan was different from the day he was born—no, even while she carried him in her body. Her acceptance at that moment wasn’t as surprising as it might seem.

  It’d been a long time in coming.

  She lifted her face from the soft, sun-warmed fur, and the young wolf raced back into the yard to join Fardusk, who was still in his wolf form. Across the stretch of the wide yard, Christina saw Saint standing in the shadow of an oak. A stream of sunlight filtered down through the branches, turning strands of his tousled brownish-blond hair into pure gold. She felt his eyes on her, even from the distance.

  “Why does he deny himself?” Christina asked Kavya quietly, referring to Saint.

  “Why does he deny his soul, do you mean?”

  Christina nodded.

  “He cannot feel it, Christina. And so, in a sense, he is right to say he does not have one.”

  Christina knew that the wise, otherworldly male who sat beside her sensed her puzzlement and frustration, so she didn’t bother to put it into words. He gave her a sad smile.

  “Yes, you are right. Saint does possess a soul…one that he created for himself through centuries of self-discipline, pain and suffering. In many ways, his soul is more refined than most, because he created it from the terrible friction that comes from the honing fires of restraint, pain, self-doubt, and prayer. Yes, prayer,” Kavya repeated when he saw her upraised brows. “He prayed even when he thought it the equivalent of a cockroach asking for a golden god on high to grant him deliverance.”

  Kavya paused, the expression on his face as he stared across the wide lawn toward his charge both sad and amazed.

  “He is a true miracle, and not of my doing. What you must understand, Christina, is that the Magians robbed their planet of its soul over a period of hundreds of thousands of years, mindlessly and foolishly raping fair Magia until the once glorious and powerful song that emanated from her mighty planet-soul throughout the universe became a barely audible whimper. Like your fellow humans, the Magians didn’t understand the connection between their own souls and that of the soil from which they sprang. We had become known throughout the galaxy as a planet of cloners, but once the soul of Magia was silenced for an eternity, we were horrified to realize that our clones were missing something crucial as well.”

  “They were soulless,” Christina whispered, fully entranced by his story and the magnetic Magian’s deep voice.

  “Yes,” Kavya replied with a sad smile. “It is difficult for human beings to conceptualize a soul, but they recognize the absence of it quickly enough. It is what forms flesh, graces it…what makes it conscious. The Magians had long ago become sterile as our planet’s song waned, which only increased our production rate of clones. For thousands of years, the practice continued, until slowly and subtly our culture began to notice something was missing in the clone class. They began to call them the Sevliss, the soulless.

  “Our leaders became consumed with the idea of infusing the soul into Magian-formed flesh. They instigated great contests where the Magian alchemists—you humans might consider us scientists and magicians melded—were challenged to do what only gods had done before us—create a soul.”

  “Saint told me there are six other Sevliss here on Earth. You and your peers came here for some kind of a contest?” Christina couldn’t decide if her main emotion was fascination, disbelief, or repulsion. How could something as miraculous as Saint be the result of a contest? It was difficult to imagine beings possessing so much power, and yet being so weakened by their own greed that they were on the brink of destroying their own race.

  But perhaps the Magian weren’t so di
fferent than how humans might be, sometime in the far, distant future?

  Kavya shrugged. “It doesn’t sound very noble when you say it, but what you must realize, Christina, is that we are here fighting for our very existence. Magians live exponentially longer than humans, but until our progeny are soul-infused, my race’s demise looms on the horizon.”

  Christina just stared at Kavya’s handsome, regal profile for several seconds before she glanced over at Saint’s preternaturally still figure.

  “Have you told Saint these things?”

  Kavya glanced at her with polite interest. “Do you think he’d be interested?”

  Christina gave a sharp bark of disbelieving laughter. “Uh…yeah, I think he’d be interested. He and the other Sevliss princes wonder and speculate about the Magians. It’s only natural.”

  Kavya nodded distractedly. “I am not trying to deprive him of anything, Christina. The formation of a soul is grueling work, and a solitary venture by necessity. It is not information about his origins that will help Saint in the process.”

  Her spine stiffened in anger. “How can you stand by and watch him suffer? He’s your son.”

  “It’s his suffering that brought him to this point. It hasn’t been easy, but I have done what I must. You call him my son, and I suppose he is. Would you have had me deprive him of the chance for a soul?”

  Christina bit her lower lip, scowling as she watched Aidan run in the grass. Something elemental in her protested Kavya’s harsh treatment of Saint, but given the same circumstances, would she do the same for Aidan? Would she have the strength to let him suffer so that he could gain the ultimate prize that a living being could possess?

  She exhaled heavily.

  “Thank you for not judging me too harshly, Christina.”

  She gave the Magian a hard glance. “I won’t argue with you over what’s done. But if forcing Saint to suffer more is in your future plans, forget it. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t.”

  Kavya’s sensual lips twitched. “Far be it from me to argue with you.”

  “So it’s done then? The experiment is through?” Christina asked hopefully.

  Disappointment flooded through her when Kavya shook his head. “Saint doesn’t feel his soul, so what good is it? He denies a part of himself, fights with his dark nature…struggles to vanquish it instead of giving in, and allowing his soul to transform the shadow within. He still has one trial he must face, one more test before he can claim his full identity.”

  “Teslar,” Christina whispered through a throat that had suddenly gone dry. Perhaps Kavya sensed her fear and uncertainty, because he turned and met her eyes.

  “Teslar and all the princes’ clones were a necessary evil, Christina. Until Saint accepts the dark aspects of his nature that Teslar represents, he will not be able to conquer his clone. He will not win his soul. This is a great secret. One that I’m asking you not to reveal until you judge the moment has come.”

  Her brow crinkled in confusion. “I can’t reveal anything when I don’t know what the hell you mean.”

  He gave her a kind smile. “I have faith in you. I have no doubt that both you and Saint will do what needs to be done when the time arrives.”

  She shook her head, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I’m just a human, Kavya, a single mom who can’t even afford to buy a car, let alone the home my son deserves. You put too much faith in me.”

  “No,” he said simply. Christina started in amazement when Kavya held up his forefinger, his brilliant blue eyes—so like Saint’s—seeming to send a shock of awareness through her. “You carry magic, Christina. You are the sacred crucible in which the transformation can occur. Remember this.”

  Christina just stared, her mouth hanging open in astonishment.

  Chapter Twenty

  Saint crept silently through the grass. A dove trilled softly in the darkness, sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. Isi never turned toward him as he approached, but Saint knew that the Iniskium warrior sensed him.

  Saint had spent the afternoon tracking in the tunnels with Strix, Bena, and Avadar. There had been no sign of the Scourge, however, and Saint knew that Teslar had dragged his army deep, forbidding them to emerge while Teslar still felt Saint’s breath warming his back. Saint had assigned a majority of the Iniskium to guard the crystal chamber, knowing they could defend it with relative ease, given the fact there were only two narrow openings.

  He would return again tonight, knowing that Teslar’s control of the Scourge would run thin when it came time to feed. Teslar’s own control would begin to crack, much as his clone would hate to admit it. Perhaps they would catch a whiff of Scourge stench and follow one of them to their new hideout.

  He’d paused in the crystal chamber before leaving the tunnels, absorbing the earth’s powerful energies. He knew he needed nourishment before he next saw Christina.

  “How long has she been out here?” he asked Isi quietly.

  “Twenty minutes or so. She is restless.”

  Isi’s eyes gleamed in the darkness, and Saint understood that Christina’s restlessness had affected the Iniskium warrior. Saint growled softly in warning. It was a purely instinctual reaction, and Isi didn’t seem offended as he averted his gaze. How could a virile young wolf not be affected by Christina’s powerful vitessence and the pheromones thickening the night air?

  Saint felt that same energy; he pulsed with it as he tracked Christina with his gaze. She stood from the steps of the gazebo and began to walk, occasionally reaching out and touching her fingers to the lilac blooms that surrounded the structure.

  “Aidan?” Saint asked, his acute night vision focused on Christina’s fingertips on the lush petals…wishing it were his skin she touched. A ripple of sensation went through him as if she’d just whisked a caress down his spine.

  “He fell asleep right after he ate his supper. Fardusk worked him hard today, but he says the young one did well.” Saint felt the Iniskium’s eyes on him in the darkness. “Fardusk says the boy has great strength. He says he is something new…different than the Iniskium. Different from you as well…but also alike.”

  “He is my son.”

  Saint didn’t need to be staring at Isi’s face in order to sense his shock. “But I thought—”

  “I thought it was impossible as well. Nevertheless, Aidan is my son.”

  Saint hadn’t been able to control the fierce emotion that surged through him as he said the words. His voice shook with it. Isi’s head swung around and they both stared at Christina as she disappeared behind the gazebo.

  “Thank you for watching her, Isi.”

  He glanced over at the Iniskium when he remained in place, despite Saint’s telepathic hint to depart.

  “I should keep guard,” Isi said.

  Saint knitted his brows together. “Why? What have you discovered?”

  Isi scowled. “Nothing of significance. But something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Does this have to do with Alison?” Saint asked.

  “I don’t trust her.”

  “Are you sure it isn’t yourself you don’t trust?”

  The moonlight revealed the flush on Isi’s high cheekbones. For a few seconds, Saint thought he wasn’t going to respond.

  “I don’t trust either one of us, to be honest,” Isi finally admitted huskily.

  Saint gave him a sidelong look. “I’m not sure if I trust Alison either. But she possesses a certain strength we can’t deny. I like her, despite myself. And I do trust you, Isi. Why don’t you keep an eye on Alison?”

  Isi took a deep breath, seemingly braced by Saint’s words. He melted into the darkness.

  The white of Christina’s T-shirt caught his eye as she came around the opposite end of the gazebo. Saint stood there, flames of sensation licking softly at his sensitive skin. He inhaled the scent of Christina on the night air. Her fragrance mingled with the odors of fresh earth, lilacs, and the lake in the distance.

  His hunger mounted wi
th each passing second until it tightened every muscle in his body. Blood surged into his cock, thickening it…making him ache.

  She was his mate. And he hadn’t even known it because he hadn’t believed he was capable of making such a bond. The wolves formed such ties, but Saint had never fully claimed that part of his genetic heritage, believing himself to be an unnatural creature.

  An abomination.

  His whole universe had been turned upside down last night when Kavya telepathically told him Aidan was his son. That truth dismantled his old world, but it also made him feel a new rightness, despite his disorientation.

  He wasn’t an abomination. How could something so godless have helped create something as wonderful as Aidan?

  Saint was still struggling to navigate around this entirely new, incomprehensible world, still spinning. Everything had changed, but he suddenly knew one thing for fact. It became the pillar that stabilized his new existence.

  Christina was his.

  A primal surge of possession went through him. He’d felt it many times before, but quickly learned to dampen the dangerous emotion, shamed by it, not feeling he had a right to it.

  Because of his acute night vision, he could see her as clearly at night as he could during the day. She wore her thick, silky hair loose, spilling around her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed with heat. Her flesh smelled of sweet perspiration and arousal, the scent so thick, he could practically taste her essence on his tongue, even from this distance.

  The sure knowledge that she wanted him in that moment as much as he did her made his cock jerk in his jeans.

  Her T-shirt was tight. She wore a modest bra, but Christina possessed the kind of nipples that refused to be shielded by cloth. The stiffened crowns pressed against the bra and the shirt, beckoning him as surely as the earth’s sublime song. He wondered if they were unintentionally sharing thoughts and sensations, because suddenly she reached up and ran her fingertips over one nipple, lightly pinching it.

  A snarl shaped his lips.

  He moved silently in the darkness, a hunter closing in on its prey. She started to cry out when he reached for her, but he had already covered her mouth with his hand, trapping her scream. He pressed her to him, her back to his front, making no secret of his flagrant arousal.